


Love, we hold on together

by njckle



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Romance, S3 spoilers, Shakespeare Quotations, Spoilers, jlaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njckle/pseuds/njckle
Summary: Embarking on a pilgrimage with bunch of belching trolls can be a handful, but Jim and Claire find moments to themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be only one chapter, but then I kept adding little plots, so whoops. I love these fools in love too much to write only one thing.
> 
> I'll update the tags as I post the rest of the chapters.

It becomes a habit to watch the last streaks of daylight fade.

During the time their ragtag group of a couple dozen trolls, one wizard, one human, and a half breed of a trollhunter crossed the States, Jim’s come to realize that sunsets are a consistent thing. An obvious observation, but since losing the ability to walk in daylight, it's something he's come to cherish.

From the cover of the trees, he watches as the sun vanished behind the horizon, and, when the shadows become more present and he knows he won’t get burned, he steps out and sits to see the last of it burn bright red and merge into the skyline.

When it’s shining its last rays of light, his ears perk at movement behind him. He’s memorized the sound of Claire’s footsteps, the tempo of her breathing, the way her clothes scratch against each other when she moves, and turns when she steps out into the open. She’s stripped herself of her armor, just in her regular clothes, and when she smiles at him the world becomes a little less frightening and a little more hopeful.

She plops down beside him. “Merlin says we’re nearly at the border of West Virginia.”

Jim hums, turning back to look at serpentine river they’ve camped near. “That’s the Mississippi.”

Claire leans against him. “I’ll convince Blinky to get a map.”

They share a laugh before quieting into comfortable silence. The gold in the horizon is slowly mellowing into a dusty purple, the night fully settling in and with it, the chill of the wild. Jim shrugs off his jacket and hands it to Claire.

It nearly swallows her when she slips it on, the sleeves bunching at her wrists, and it amazes Jim once again how big he is. Merlin’s potion did a number on him, making it so that finding a pair of sneakers that fit nearly impossible, coming across a pair of pants even harder. Even if it was more of a hassle, convincing the useless wizard to enlarge a set of clothes for him is a better alternative to being stuck wearing his armor, or worse, taking up Blinky’s offer of borrowing one of his overalls.

“It’s so beautiful.” Claire points to the first stars of the night. “That kind of look like a fish caught in a hook, don’t you think?”

Jim follows the direction of her hand and laughs. “That’s Orion. See his belt?” He mimics the pose of the constellation from the old star map in his room, imagining he’s in his armor and wielding his own weapons. The amulet of daylight hums from his pocket. “He’s supposed to be holding a shield and sword.”

“Really?” Claire hums, craning her neck. “What about the star over there above it?”

“That’s part of Taurus.” He traces the general shape of it in the dirt so she can compare it to the one in the sky, dotting it’s brightest stars.

She asks him about other stars and he answers the best he can, and they pass the time making up names for the constellations ( _That one kind of looks like a bent steak fork_ , Claire says and laughs when his stomach grumbles). One by one, more stars appear until millions of them speckle the night sky, far too many for them pick out.

Claire sighs at the sight and Jim realizes he misses this, misses her. What they’ve set upon is a pilgrimage, one that’s arduous and time-consuming the longer it continues, and he would like nothing more than to leave it all to spend a few precious moments with the girl next to him.

Without realizing it, he reaches out to her. This new strength of his is unpredictable and he has to remember to be gentle; he’s not dealing with Aaarrrgghh or Gunmar, but with something he now realizes is small, fragile, and so incredibly _human_. He pulls her into his lap oh so carefully and wraps himself around her like he can protect her from the rest of the world, a shield that’s not quite stone, but that’s just as sturdy.

“You don’t regret coming with me, do you?”

“Never.” She reaches up and strokes his chin, then his cheek, her touch so faint he almost can’t feel it through his new skin. Jim frowns, reaching out to do the same, but stops short at the sight of his hand.

Claire must guess what’s wrong because she begins to tap her fingers against his skin. “Do you feel that?”

Jim nods. He stays still when she goes further, touching his ears, then his horns, treating each part of him like it’s something to wonder at, not fear. He snorts when she touches his nose and refrains from shaking his head like a dog.

Claire’s laugh is light and warm. “Like I said before. It’s just the outside stuff that’s different.”

Jim dips his head to press his face to her neck, docile to her exploring hands, and inhales the scent that’s solely her. Everything about her is warm, her body heat enough to seep into his skin, and he feels like he’s holding his own personal sun that won’t burn him no matter how close he gets.

“We haven’t—” He stops and pulls away, flustered for the first time since changing. “I mean, I’m not sure—I don’t think—” He sighs, frustrated he can’t say what he wants to.

“We can.” Claire seems to understand. She turns her head to fully face him, lining their profiles.

They’ve kissed before, a few times in fact, and Jim enjoyed every one of them, and he thinks Claire did too because she hadn’t said anything different. He could do it again, wants to do it again—right now in fact. It’s as easy as leaning forward and…

He gets as far as their noses brushing, then stops. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, and so is hers, the pulse under his hands becoming his entire focus, drowning out the rest of the world. Instead of doing what wants to so desperately, he leans his forehead against her and lets them stay like that, too afraid to go any further.

“Jim?” she whispers. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Everything.”

Claire’s eyes are wide, searching his face like he’s a puzzle that needs to be solved. Moonlight colors her in hues of blue and silver, highlighting the streak in her hair, dipping into the slope of her neck. “I know what your thinking and you’re wrong.”

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“You don’t want me to give up everything for you,” she says. “You want me to have a normal life with normal friends and a normal job. You’re wondering if I’ll start to regret my decision and leave.”

“Alright. Maybe you do know what I’m going thinking.” There’s a list of reasons why this choice of hers would turn out to be a mistake, one that he’s been creating ever since they left Arcadia, adding a tally for every inconvenience his new body has brought him. “You should have a normal boyfriend who doesn’t have to break up troll fights over the last sock—”

She presses a finger to his lips. “Trolls exist. My brother was kidnapped and switched with a changeling. I was possessed by an ancient witch. You are normal to me.”

“I’m seven feet tall—I have horns!”

“More like seven and a half—and the horns are cute.” She smiles, but her joke falls flat to Jim, and she quickly sobers up. “I’m serious, Jim. So what if you’re bigger than before or growl or eat my candy wrappers. You’re still you.”

She’s right, he knows she is, but no matter how many times he hears it he can’t seem to shake away the nagging feeling he’s lost a part of himself forever, and with it, her. He feels like he did when he’d first found the amulet, when the most stressful thing in his life was passing his Spanish test and talking to the girl of his dreams, anxious and timid and unsure.

Claire eyes him, humming thoughtfully, before straightening suddenly. _“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”_

Jim frowns, recognizing the words. They’re his lines after all. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Claire shushes him. “If I’m going to be on Broadway, I need to practice. Now, where was I?” She clears her throat and begins again, this time reciting her part. _“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”_

Jim immediately replies, the words ingrained in his memory. _“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”_

_“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”_

He’s given an expectant expression, urging him to continue the scene, so Jim does.

_“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”_

Claire’s teeth are stark white against the backdrop of the dark sky when she smiles. _“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.”_

Jim’s mind goes back to not so long ago, to the night of the play. He remembers it in detail, from stepping on stage with the adrenaline rush from defeating Bular still running through his veins to the feel of his Juliet reaching for his hand. He remembers getting to the end, Daylight clasped in his arms, eyes closed, how strands of her hair brushed at his cheeks, the moment when she’d gently kissed him on the mouth. The feeling in his chest now is the same.

_“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.”_

Slender hands slide to the base of his skull, curling fingers into his hair, and Jim lets himself squeeze her a little closer. Claire lifts her chin, all her flare gone and replaced by something entirely serious and tender. _“Then have my lips the sin that they have took.”_

Jim swallows. “I know you did this to prove a point, but I’m not sure if I should say the rest of the scene or—”

She closes the distance between them, effectively answering his question.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took lines from Romeo & Juliet, ACT I, SCENE V. No shame.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, it's been so long since I wrote some jlaire. Feels good to be back.

Claire’s footsteps are light and quick, sure footed even in the dimming light of twilight.

More often than naught, the ground suddenly dips and the trees crowd so tight that it’s almost impossible to not trip, but she doesn’t stumble. Before, running as fast and hard as she is in terrain totally unknown would’ve frightened her, but now she relishes in the freedom. She runs fast, faster than she’s ever ran, and her endurance is better than ever. She’s not one to show off, but oh she wishes she could be in gym class now, up front for the mile.

When the orange of the sky is almost nearly overtaken with the blue, the chill of the night starts to set in. Claire slides down a small slope, kicking up leaves, sidestepping gnarled roots that reach out from the dirt and the branches that grab at her clothes and hair. A great oak surrounded by brush and wild berries is good enough cover, so she presses herself against its trunk, not daring to make a sound.

Her heart beats hard in her chest, but she forces her breath to come out even, else be heard. A quick glance around and she’s relieved to see that she hasn’t been followed. She’s determined to see his challenge through and thinks that maybe she can actually win—

“Gotcha,” someone says beside her.

Claire shrieks.

Jim, hanging from the lower branch, leans back to avoid her swing. He gives her a cheeky grin. “Nice left hook.”

“I was sure I lost you!” Now that she’s been found, she's able to catch her breath. Even with her heart beating a mile a minute, the adrenaline from her run is fading, and she starts to feel the fatigue that’s been creeping up on her. She braces herself on her knees. “How long did I last?”

“Six minutes give or take.” Jim tries to be nonchalant, but fails to smother the humor in his tone. He’s still upside down. “Someone’s losing their touch.”

“If I had my Shadow Staff, you wouldn’t be so cocky!”

“Are you sure about that? I could find you anywhere by your smell.” He blinks rapidly, then frowns. “Wait. That came out wrong.”

“It’s fine, Jim.” She grins at him from under her bangs when she finally has her heartbeat under control. She hopes that her skin isn’t as blotchy or her hair as wild as she thinks it is; Jim’s vision has only gotten better in the night, but he’s given no indication he cares whether she’s presentable or not. He hasn’t commented on her lack of showering yet either. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

The smile she gets is more dopey than anything else. Claire loves it, tusks and all, and goes on her tiptoes to meet him halfway.

“Master Jim!”

Jim sighs, changing course and pecking her cheek, and drops to the ground next to her. Standing this close he practically towers over her and Claire remembers Mary going on about the perks of having a tall boyfriend. She takes his hand and lets him lead her back the way they came.

They’re almost back at camp when Blinky stumbles through the brush. “Master Jim, there you are! What are you doing?”

“Just training,” Claire says quickly.

Blinky frowns, not believing a word. He’s wearing her backpack and, coupled with his staff and overalls, looks slightly ridiculous. “While I often encourage you fulfill your social desires, now is not the time for such ebullient activities. Our focus and strength are better suited on our journey ahead!”

Jim grumbles like a car engine. “C’mon Blinky, we’ve been walking for days! We deserve to have some alone time. Besides, we’re not hurting anyone.”

“Everyone could use a break,” Claire adds. “The hearthstone isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

A beat. “Fine, I’ll permit a moment of rest once we reach the border—the state line that you call it.” The troll waggles a finger at them. “But until then, I insist that neither of you wander off. We’re wasting enough moonlight as it is!”

Jim does a silly salute. “Roger that.”

Blinky frowns. “Who is this Roger you speak of?”

“It’s a human expression. It means ‘yes.’”

“Oh, delightful.” All previous suspicious fades way in face of the chance to learn more human culture. He mimics Jim’s salute, but with an extra set of hands. “I’ll add it to my vocabulary, Roger!”

“No, it’s—” Jim starts, but the troll is already walking away.

Nomura saunders past, swords in tow for a late night hunt. She eyes Claire with her slanted eyes, the glow of them brighter than the strips of moonlight shining through the trees. “Better check on your girlfriend, little Gynt.”

Jim does just that, turning and giving Claire his entire focus. He stares at her longer than necessary, the crease between his brows getting deeper the longer he looks. He takes a whiff of her scent and from his expression, he's not happy with it.

Claire rubs her eyes, tries to fix her hair, anything to make her appear more awake and not a disaster waiting to happen. “What is it?”

“When was the last you slept?”

She makes a face, but decides not to answer. It’d only worry Jim more if she told him the truth.

He worries anyway, grumbling. “You should’ve said something before I asked you to slip away.”

Trolls pass them left and right, as able as when they began. Claire suddenly begins to feel the ache and wear of traveling, the curse of the human physiology. If only she had her staff, she could travel miles ahead and actually give something back besides her Papa’s _chorizo_. She squishes her cheeks together, gives herself a good slap, then jumps on her toes a few times to get her blood pumping. “I can sleep for as long as I want when we get to the state line.”

“Claire,” Jim whines. The savior of the trollkind and he’s still the same old worrywart.

“We can’t slow down because of me.” She gives him a hard stare when he tries to argue, fully aware that he could convince Blinky to halt their little pilgrimage, most likely longer than they can afford. Her reason is sound and he knows it.

“Can I at least help?”

“I’m not making you carry me the entire trip.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Somehow his new face pulls off his usual pout even better his old one and despite her attempt at seriousness, it makes Claire more flustered and timid than facing off against his intense stare. She really can’t say no to him, no matter what he looks like. Her resolve weakens.

“Here,” he says after a moment, coming closer. He reaches for her back, giving her a moment to back away before ducking and, in one smooth motion, lifting her into a bridal hold. “Is this fine?”

“Yes.” She sighs at the euphoric sensation of finally getting off her feet, the ache in her limbs becoming more bearable with each passing second, and tilts her head so it rests against his chest. She’d be lying if she didn’t ever imagine him carrying her like this. Granted, he’d been human in her imagination, but this still worked for her.

Jim's gait is smooth even with the unsteady terrain and Claire can easily see herself falling asleep. Except she doesn’t want to sleep just yet. She was serious before about not wanting to hold him back and has convinced herself that if she keeps awake long enough, it'll make her feel better. “Did you ever leave Arcadia when you were little?”

“Once. Dad convinced Mom for a family trip to Oregon. I think it was to meet an college friend.”

She latches onto one tidbit of his answer. “I’ve never heard you talk about your dad.”

Jim's face twists, an echo of a snarl making his face appear more frightful, but it fades so quick that Claire might've imagined it. “Never had a reason to. Mom and I did just fine by ourselves."

“Tell me about him?" she asks. "Please."

“He was an Air Marshal.” Through her lashes she sees him grimace, but his voice is leveled, stating it in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “Mom used to say I looked like him.”

Claire remembers seeing a some model airplanes when she’d last been in his room. A few pictures of a man in uniform tucked away in the corners of his living room. “What else?”

“He used to take me to my baseball games. Mom couldn’t make it when she was studying, but dad made sure I made every practice.”

“Pitcher?” she asks.

“Center outfield.”

“You never tried out for the school team?”

“I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t into it after he left…” He drifts off, lost.

Claire hums, understanding. Her extracurricular activists took so much of her time, but the play was the one thing she wouldn’t budge with, her one relief and love that had nothing to do with pleasing her parents. To have that ruined, she wouldn’t know what she would do. “Do you think we can teach trolls how to play baseball?”

“I’m pretty sure they’d eat the bats.” A hot puff of air hits the top of Claire’s head and Jim makes a sound of disgust. “I might eat one.”

Claire laughs. She’s slowly losing the fight to keep her eyes open, but that’s fine. She trusts that Jim won’t drop her. They’re both quiet and Claire nearly slips into sweet bliss when Jim speaks again.

“I was five when he left.”

That wakes her up quicker than a bucket of water and she stares up at him, surprised. She can't imagine what she’d feel if her papa walked out on her mama. Families are supposed to stick together, to love another, and to know that Jim’s father couldn’t keep to his is disappointing.

“For a long time, I wished that he’d come back, but now…” A pause, just the sound of grunting trolls and Jim’s even breathing. “Now I’m glad he never did. As much as it grosses me out, Mom’s happy with Strickler. And I have you and Tobes and Blinky and AAARRRGH. He wouldn’t fit—especially now.”

“You ever wonder about him?”

“Sometimes. I wondered if he started another family. He left me and my mom, but maybe he figured it out with someone else. I used to think about meeting them—I always wanted a little brother or sister.” Jim huffs. “Not really possible now, but maybe someday…”

Claire can feel this conversation straying into unwanted territory. She knocks her knuckles against Jim's chest to chest to get his attention and smiles kindly up at him. “Your dad missed out on an amazing son.”

At that, he gives her a soft smile, a silent _thank_ _you_ that has her heart melting. He really was the sweetest boy she knew, no matter who his dad was.

She yawns. “Wake me up in an hour, OK?”

He makes an affirming sound in the back his throat that reverberates in his chest. If Claire knows him as well as she thinks she does—and she does—he won’t wake her. “I’m serious, Jim, you can’t carry me all night.”

“Actually I could.”

“ _Jim_.” Now it’s her turn to whine.

“Get some sleep, Claire.”

She huffs, but decides to forgo arguing for when she’s not so tired. She settles further against him. Closing her eyes, the sounds around her lull her to a state of calm, the whispering trees, the chirping insects, even the trolls grumbling, all of it relaxing. It’s safe.

“I’m really glad you‘re you,” she whispers to him as she finally drifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
